Young Thorin
by Suburban Legend
Summary: A set of one-shots about Thorin as he growns into the dwarf he is now. General fluffiness... Technically movie-verse, but they can fit into either.
1. Dinner with an Elf

This is based off the movie-verse though it assumes the knowledge of the book-verse. I was taken by the fact that Elrond knew Thror and it would not leave my mind. This is the story which came of it! Please review. As of now, this is a one shot, but I have been very inspired and may upload more one shots!

Young Thorin sat atop the stairwell, which led to the great dining hall of the main palace in Erebor. He "hmphed" quietly to himself as soft talk and laughter drifted up from where his parents and grandfather were entertaining their guests. Thorin did not care who this "elf" as his mother had explained, was. She had subjected him to a bath. She had taken out all his braids and redid them with care, putting new, shining metal beads in. These beads were heavier than the ones he was used to wearing and they tugged painfully at his thick hair. Not only did he have to sit through that, but she had also made him wear his finest clothes. They were itchy and tight, not giving him any room to run around and play. Thorin could tell; he did not like elves.

Though the small child would not admit this, he did not truly know what an elf was. A stretched out dwarf with no beard was what his nanny had told him as she brushed his long hair before the bath. He told her that he didn't feel the need to be clean for beardless fake-dwarves. Thorin was already too stubborn for his own good, and protested childishly whenever he could not run around the palace in simple tunics. At his previous, grumpy remark, Thorin's mother had fixed him with a cutting look.

His mother, being pregnant, was too tired and impatient to deal with the young prince's stubborn dislike of bathing and had eventually given up after all the struggling. Shortly after the process of dressing the difficult child was finished; she had left with a defeated huff. Thorin felt like it was not fair that he should dress up because his grandfather, the great King under the Mountain, had invited guests from a place called Rivendell.

About an hour before dinner was served, his mother had come into his room and scooped him up. At only five, he was still considered a baby to most dwarves. She cooed to him in a rare moment of kindness and told him that Lord Elrond had asked to meet the young prince. He wept into her shoulder because he was tired and hungry, but still in all his stubbornness, he refused to leave his room. With a huff, his mother placed the toddler back on his bed. There, he had spent the past hour with his head buried under his pillow, imagining that he was riding a pony through the mountains away from this awful place.

Finally the scents of dinner had drawn him from his room and had placed him where he sat now. He wanted very badly to go down there and get something to eat, but he was also afraid that his mother would scold him for interrupting the grown-up's dinner. Eventually hunger won out and the small boy descended the stairwell.

Being a dwarf, and a toddler-sized one at that, Thorin passed unnoticed behind all the dining guests until he reached his grandfather's throne at the head of the table. This is where he stood, bright blue eyes, staring sharply up at Thrór, asking him silently for attention. The great King noticed soon enough and chuckled happily as he saw the heir to the throne peeking up at him.

"I see we have one more guest to the table" Thrór announced as he stood from his chair to scoop the infant boy. "Your mother has been telling us how naughty you have been." He whispered into the child's ear with a mischievous grin on his face. Thrór was a tremendous king, but even he was able to turn into a loving grandfather and temporarily forget the role that he had to play, whenever his grandson came near. It warmed his heart to see such a young and happy boy being raised in the kingdom which he had built.

Thorin blushed as his grandfather picked him up. His round cheeks were already red from crying, but they glowed brighter under the scrutinizing eyes of the dinner table. He looked shyly back at every person who inspected him. Most of them, he knew; his mother, his father, some of their kin, and some other courtly people, but there was one at the table that caught his eye entirely.

A tall man, taller than anything or anyone that Thorin had ever seen. He had long, straight brown hair, and a face that had sharp features and searching eyes. His ears were pointed like a dwarf's, but he had no beard. The elf. Thorin stared at him in wonder—everything about this elf was strange. His clothes were different; the thin crown that circled his head was different; even the braids in his hair were different!

Thorin began to squirm in his grandfather's hold. He wanted to get a better look at this elf. His childlike curiosity, mixed with his exhausted state made him whine quietly as he squirmed. Thrór chuckled and set the small boy down. Thorin toddled quietly over to the tallest creature he had ever seen.

Lord Elrond watched the small dwarf prince with amusement. His children had long since grown and moved on, and elfish children were infrequent. Even rarer was their appearance at any dinner party. Thorin was tiny; Elrond decided that that was the best word to describe him. The boy barely stood at a foot tall. He was wearing a royal blue tunic with slate gray pants. There was silver stitching that created an elaborate pattern which adorned the borders of the tunic. He had long, thick hair which waved naturally and large, sharp blue eyes. They were red around the edges and his round face showed evidence of the tantrum he had been throwing earlier. This toddler was by no means chubby, but he still had the baby fat from his predominately dairy diet.

Lord Elrond pushed his chair out so he could truly greet the young prince. Though he doubted in Thorin's later years that the boy would remember any of this, it did not mean that he could excuse the manner's that were so important to his people. "Hello, young prince." He greeted, with a small half-smile toying at his lips.

Thorin stopped, frozen in place under the scrutinizing stare of the elf Lord. "Hewwo." He mumbled as he looked around, suddenly very keen on finding some skirt pleats which he could hide behind.

Lord Elrond chuckled and shook his head. Dwarf children, as it turned out, did not appear to be so different from elf children. He felt a bit foolish for expecting they would be. Children were children, he mused. "Do not be so shy, little one. I am Lord Elrond." He said and gave the boy a small nod in greeting.

Thorin huffed and stomped a tiny foot to the ground. "I am _not_ wittle." He said and pouted, showing his tiredness from earlier.

The dining room chuckled at the childish outburst and Thorin's face burned red. He was about to turn and run from the room—hunger and curiosity forgotten, when he saw the elf stand. He was even taller than Thorin had thought earlier.

Thorin's mouth fell open as he stood, petrified by fear, unable to act. How could the gods make such a giant thing? He took one staggered step back, but then froze again.

Elrond bowed more dramatically than he had before and spoke in a regal tone. "Forgive me, Master Dwarf." He said and paused, gaining momentum. He had forgotten how charming and innocent small children could be. "I meant no slight by my words. I am sorry."

Thorin tilted his head and closed his mouth, trying to fathom what had happened. Did this giant just apologize? Thorin suddenly felt silly for his outburst. This was the guest his mother had mentioned and Thorin was making him apologize. Again, his cheeks flushed red and he sniffled. "I'm sowwy" He said and did the only thing he could think of. He ran to the elf and wrapped his small arms around his leg. His head barely made it to the bottom of his knee, but still the hug was fierce. Hugs were always the best way to apologize, he figured.

Suddenly he felt strong hands under his armpits, and then he was pulled away from Lord Elrond. It was his mother. She wrapped her arms around him. "I think that someone is in need of a warm meal and maybe a nap after all the excitement we had earlier today." She said with a small smile.

Before Thorin, or Lord Elrond, could respond, Thorin's small tummy rumbled. The elf laughed and nodded. "I believe you are correct, Madam." He said with a small nod. He then returned to his seat.

Thorin was carried back to his mother's seat, and remained there for the rest of the meal, munching on crackers and a large glass of warm, honeyed milk, which had appeared from one of the servants. By the end of dinner, Thorin was nodding to sleep in his mother's lap. Suddenly, his mother stood, sweeping him up with her. "It is time for bed, for both of us." She announced as she cradled her young son in one arm and held her pregnant stomach with the other. "This babe will come any day." She complained quietly as she rocked Thorin.

Thorin did not want to go. He squirmed in his mother's strong hold and peeked over her shoulder as they exited the hall. Only his grandfather, father, and Lord Elrond remained. There was a chorus of laughter from the dining hall as they turned the corner and began up the stairwell. "Nooooo." Thorin protested softly into his mother's neck, but she merely shushed him, knowing how drained the tired little prince must have been.

About thirty minutes after Thorin had been tucked in by his mother, he still lay awake, staring at the ceiling of his room. His sharp dwarf ears picked up on the laughter and soft muttering of the men downstairs. He knew where they were; in his grandfather's private study. That is always where Thrór went when entertaining special guests. They drank from mugs larger than Thorin could pick up—he had spilled many in an attempt to do just that! What was in these mugs was a mystery to young Thorin. It was a grown-up's drink, is what his nanny told him, but that didn't quench his own thirst for the answer. One day, he knew he would be grown enough to pick them up.

With a decisive huff, Thorin threw back his blankets and crawled out of bed. It had been long enough, and he was sure his mother was asleep. In fact, he could hear her loud snores from down the hall. Dressed only in a night shirt, the young dwarf padded softly down the hall until he was just outside of his grandfather's study. From what he could see, it was only his grandpa and Lord Elrond who still remained. Maybe his father had gone to bed shortly after he had?

Lost in his own thoughts, Thorin did not notice that the talking inside the room has ceased until the door swung open. His grandfather was standing at the door, staring down at him. Thorin knew instantly that he would be in trouble for this. He backed up, but his grandpa scooped him up and brought him into the room, slamming the door as he turned.

Thorin was in tears before the scolding even began and he missed most of the admonishment because of his cries, "Give your mother too much stress… no business for babies… disrespectful… trouble-maker…foolish…" Eventually the scolding stopped, but not before he received a tough slap on the rear, which sent him into a new spiral of tears.

Eventually he calmed himself enough to realize that while Thrór had been admonishing him for being too curious, and for meddling where babies did not belong, he was still sitting in his grandfather's lap in his grandfather's private study, gazing into the warm, roaring fire.

He sniffled and looked around. There was a mix of weapons, books, and various treasures of war. He had never been in here before, and it was almost too much for him to take. He twisted and turned in his grandfather's lap, eying everything that was in his view.

After some time, Thrór grumbled in mild annoyance at the squirming child. "You've got children, haven't you?" He said to Lord Elrond as he scooped Thorin up and tossed him at the unsuspecting elf. Luckily, Thorin was as light as an elfish baby and yet already ten times sturdier. Lord Elrond caught him and huffed as the breath was knocked out of him slightly. Thorin, no longer in trouble from his grandfather, merely giggled at the toss.

Once the child was settled in Lord Elrond's lap, the two adults began to talk again. Thorin snuggled in against the giant and got comfy as he listened to the two men regale each other in various tales of battles and adventures. Thorin began to drift as his sharp eyes watched the fire burn. Eventually, a well-needed sleep took him and his head fell deftly against Lord Elrond's chest as he dreamt of the day in which he would have his own adventures to tell of. Lord Elrond paused from his tale and laughed as he looked down at the sleeping toddler, knowing that he would remember those piercing eyes for forever.


	2. Nightmares

I have decided to continue this sequence of one-shots. The general plan is to try and post at least one a week, but maybe more.

On that note, and due to the request from a comment which has seemed to disappear, I am also going to write Thorin's reaction when he realizes that he knows Elrond too (as a sequel to Chapter one, however, that will be posted elsewhere).

With my term just starting back, I've been fairly busy, so here is just a very short little tale for you to enjoy!

Summary: The knowledge of responsibility weighs heavy on young Thorin's shoulders, but luckily his grandfather is there to put his still innocent mind at rest.

* * *

_The green hall_s_ quaked with a terrible noise and there were screaming dwarfs everywhere. Young Thorin stood at the top of a stairwell as he watched his people running in all directions. Something awful was happening and Thorin did not know what. He hurried down the stairs and looked around. Fire everywhere. _

_Thorin, still short, ran between the legs of the adults. Everyone was afraid, even the once-brave soldiers. Thorin was knocked down. He fell next to a still body, but he could not bear to look and see if they were still alive. Thorin had never seen so much blood, nor had he heard so much screaming. His heart beat quickened and his stomach turned._

_"Mama" He called out, frantically searching for a familiar face. He found one. He father lay in a pool of blood, eyes lifeless. Besides him, his mother and infant brother lay dead as well. He screamed and ran to them, tears streaming down his face._

That scream woke him from the terrible dream he had had. He looked around, listening. The halls were quiet, with the only sound coming from his parent's room just a few doors down. It was the sound of peaceful, but loud, snores.

Thorin rolled out of his bed, tangled in his sheets, and landed in a heap on the floor. He straightened himself out and got to his feet, still shaking from the images of his dead family. Slowly he crept out of his room, determined not to cause anyone alarm. In his baby brother's room, he found the infant to be sound asleep. He sighed and nodded.

Shivering now, from the layer of sweat which had developed on him during the dream, he continued down the hall to find both his mother and father whole. They were all okay, but that thought did not put the young prince's mind at ease. What if that changed? What if one day he woke to find that everyone he loved was gone? That he was all alone to care for this whole kingdom? He was afraid that he could not do it; he did not want to be alone.

Thorin had been trying ever since the birth of his brother one year ago to be an adult and no longer a baby. As thoughts began to swirl in his head of the daunting responsibilities he would have to face he wanted very much to curl up in his mother's arm and be sung to until he fell back asleep. It was hard to act so brave when he was still so young. He began to turn and enter his parents' room, but he was stopped by a voice.

"Thorin, my child, what are you doing up?"

Thorin turned to see his grandfather at the end of the hall, bag of gold in his hands. Thrór had been counting gold all through dinner, and it seemed that he had only just finished the task.

Thorin opened his mouth to speak, but could not find a single word. He was so afraid and could not rid himself of the weight of his dream. Instead he just looked at his grandfather, with large, blue eyes—mouth agape. He shivered and sniffled, trying not to cry. Somehow, seeing his grandfather standing there, alive and well, made the flood of emotions he had felt when he had woken up come rushing back.

Thrór was to him before the boy had time to cry out, bag of gold left forgotten on the floor. He scooped his grandson up and turned to take him back to his room. Halfway down the hall, he remembered the gold. He paused and turned to inspect it, lying innocently on the floor, tied securely in the sack. Thorin was crying softly into Thrór's great beard. He quickly retrieved the bag and then carried Thorin into the room. There, he sat down with the boy on his bed. It groaned under the weight of the fully grown dwarf. He noted that the blankets were in a tangled heap on the floor and he sighed, knowing exactly what had happened.

"Your father used to have terrible nightmares too, as did I." He spoke softly to his grandson, knowing that even through the tears, the young boy was listening.

He nodded wisely and continued on. "Even as a young boy, the weight of this family and this kingdom rests on your shoulders. You're far too young to be expected to know of the evils which are out there, and yet you do. It is the price of being the prince that you are. But one day, you will be strong like me, your father, and my father before."

"I know it seems hard for you to imagine, being so small and the world being so big, but you will not be alone. You have a family that loves you, and a kingdom that adores you. You have a home here that will never leave." Thrór said quietly to the boy, who had stopped crying.

"Promise?" Came a small voice, muffled by the old King's beard.

"I do." Thrór reassured. "This is a mighty kingdom, and you are from a mighty line. The gods favor us, young Thorin, rest assured Erebor will be yours forever and we will not leave you to the task until you are ready. You have many years before that happens." Thrór said with complete certainty. He chuckled slightly, thinking of the peaceful kingdom he had built for his family.

Thorin looked into his grandfather's eyes, searching them. When he found no hint of a lie he nodded and continued to nuzzle into his grandfather. "I believe you." He whispered, as peaceful dreams carried him away, and he did.

* * *

After Thrór tucked his grandson away, he scooped up the bag of gold and continued on his way to his beloved study. His thoughts were on his troubled grandson when he entered, but shortly after that, they turned to something else.

The bag of gold in his thick hand seemed lighter than when had left the gold chambers. What was this treachery? He inspected the bag and noticed that the string which held it closed had come loose. It was probably from when he had tucked Thorin in.

Thrór wasted no time in empting its contents onto his desk. He counted it over twice and came to find that ten golden coins were missing. He breathed a sigh of relief and turned to retrace his footsteps. Ten coins were a trivial matter in the long run, but one could not be too cautious with their gold.

He found two coins at the top of the stairwell, and four where he had scooped Thorin up originally. But where were the other four? Thrór entered Thorin's room quietly, conscious of the sleeping boy. Two of the coins were on the bed next to the resting boy, but the last two were tucked under his light figure.

Thrór gently rolled Thorin onto his side, hoping to retrieve his last coins without waking the boy, but Thorin had always been a light sleeper.

"Gwampa?" Thorin said, his voice slurring slightly with sleep.

"Just checking on you, go back to sleep now." Thrór said quietly as he ran one hand over his grandson's hair as he quickly grabbed the final coins up. "Just keeping you safe."

Thorin fell back to sleep as easily as he had woken up and Thrór left the room with his ten gold coins, feeling content. He had not lied to the young prince. No, Thrór was indeed just keeping Thorin safe. The gold would protect them from any hardship they faced.

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Please review if you would be so kind! It helps my self-esteem greatly!

Summary for the next story: Boys are dirty, stinky things. Especially dwarfish boys.


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